


Wolf At The Door

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Chivalry, Deputy falls for his Knight in dirty camo, Dorks in Love, Fluff and Angst, Jacob to the rescue, M/M, One Shot, Writing request, anonymous request
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 04:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14825720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: ANON ASK:If you're up for more Jacob/M!Deputy, maybe something with an almost chivalrous Jacob, protecting the Deputy from some of his siblings mooks? With a grateful Deputy??-------------------------This is my interpretation of that Anon Ask from my Tumblr. Complete with dorky flirtation Deputy and cool collected Jacob.





	Wolf At The Door

It was simple enough, at least it should have been. Rook had been causing havoc all over Hope county and had spurred the ire of more then one Herald in the process. He had John seething in the Holland Valley after Rook narrowly avoided the branding of one of the baptists crazed tattoos. He mourned the fact he wasn’t fast enough to flee nearly being drowned in the process but he couldn’t be picky when it came to freedom and small mercies. He worked his way into the Henbane and made himself a little niche, blowing up one of Faith’s shrines after another. He was rather fond of the practice actually. But even that couldn’t last. Faith’s ghostly visage began to follow him up and down the mountain sides, through the outposts and around the rivers. Her melodious voice drifting in and out of his ears, so tantalizing with that bitter sweet bliss doing a number on his senses. The first little go around under the girl’s spell left him dizzy and disoriented, dropping him off at the edge of a field with the County Jail being blasted with explosives. The hail of bullets raining down on the heavy iron gates. Rook barely made it in time to deter the demented angels beating themselves stupid against the entrance.

 

The second taste of Faith’s bliss nearly ended his life, if it wasn’t for Sheriff Whitehorse and Tracey easing him through it. It was enough of a scare to send him packing to the next region. The next was safer, quieter, held more poise then the rocky mountain ranges of the Henbane or the open dry expanse of fields and their ornery cattle. The thick pine of the woods was welcome, comforting and familiar to Rook. He sunk into it the way a tree’s root do into soft soil. He could plant himself here, firm and unwavering. It was tempting. He rather enjoyed it, but the Herald that oversaw this range was far more formidable than Rook expected. The eldest brother of the twisted lot and the man with less to lose than anyone else and just as much to gain.

 

Jacob was a wolf at his door, prowling hungry in the crisp chill of night. His growls punctuated by plumes of vapor rising slowly, a warning signal to Rook that it was all predator and Rook was nothing more then meek prey. Jacob made that very clear after Rook destroyed his third Wolf Beacon and liberated the FANG Sanctuary. His hunters were as swift as their name suggested in bringing back their prey. Though Rook could have forgone the arrow in his thigh. A kinder invitation would have warranted enough for him to stop and chat. _Maybe_ , well, okay. If he were really drunk, perhaps.

 

Actually, being really drunk would have been enough as he laid eyes upon the Eldest Seed. The man was far more intimidating up close as opposed to his shadowy distance when they first crossed paths in Joseph’s church. All hard lines and sharp features, blue eyes peering out like jewels at him, a depth that rivaled any of the lakes in Hope County, spurring on a thirst that Rook hadn’t felt since, well, since before Eden’s Gate. A tight ache that called to him, that pulled him towards the man. Had he been a patron at The Spread Eagle and all this end of the world shit wasn’t going on, Rook may have meandered his way up to the man and made his desires known. That wasn’t the outcome this time around. It was kind of hard to flirt when strapped to a chair and being brainwashed by a voice that rumbled low, resonating deep within. For a moment, he forgot he was supposed to be fighting. It was his reflexes and his own fear of dying that kick started him into kill mode, pressing forward for survival, craving every purr of praise that fell from that man’s lips.

 

Rook was shameless in his feelings, letting them twist up into complicated knots inside his gut until he was sick with heartache, wandering the woods shortly after finding freedom. He desired another glimpse, possibly even a taste of the eldest Seed. With that in mind, he set forth to create more havoc for Jacob then he intended for either of the previous two Heralds. It didn’t last long as he was called away back to John’s region to help out with some meager tasks. Kim had her baby and Rook was suddenly a Godfather. He was ushered from there as quickly as he could, back to Faith’s terrain to do some jobs for Tracey. Constantly bouncing back and forth into a dizzying whirlwind of boundary lines between Holland and Henbane until he no longer knew which side of the river he walked along.

 

He shuffled along in the late evening. The day was insanely hot compared to all the rest, his red flannel clung to his body like a gross second skin between all the sweat and humidity. His hair was slick with much the same, a tousled mess as he made a pitiful attempt to corral it. His rifle was way too heavy on his shoulders, cramping up the tense and knotted muscles as he searched the woods for a cabin he knew was around here somewhere. He was sure he crossed over into Jacob’s territory by now, seeking refuge in the region of the sibling that hated him least at the moment. At least Jacob was honest about it, straight forward. He never polished it up with pretty words or empty promises, never made his sins or shortcomings sound like they were there to be fixed. He was blunt and precise in his observations, noting only what made him strong, what made him useful. He didn't cut him down to size and shame him for his weaknesses, to make him vulnerable and needy. Rook was neither of those things.

 

Tired? Yes. Clueless? Most definitely so. He was calloused and knew his weaknesses well enough, had trained for years to adapt, overcome and strengthen them until they became just as much a skill as those he honed his entire life around. To be honest, that was probably the only reason he made it this far while still running around like a chicken with it's head cut off. He was damn good at dodging the butchering block, but apparently not the stew pot.

 

His aimless wandering walked him right into a rag tag camp full of Angel’s and Faith's blissed out followers. Rook froze, the demented Angels’ heads tilted at awkward pained angle like the drooling undead they resembled. Their masks concealing their groaning hissing jaws, making them slightly more human in appearance. Just closer to rabid mental patients. The other followers with their wits about them stared in shock, blinking as they tried to make sense of the scene before them. Rook contemplated back pedaling or trying to play this off like he belonged there. He made the mistake of delaying too long and ended up making a breakneck race through the cluttered darkened woods to get away. Lanterns and flashlights followed close behind. The thunder of bare feet in damp churned up soil rushing up behind him. The cursing voices and low hisses of the Angels were closing in as Rook clambered over a large redwood and dove through a hollowed trunk, finding cover for a few strong heartbeats.

 

He could barely make out the silhouettes of forest around him, his eyes struggling between the suffocating darkness and pale beams of light that jarred his vision, slicing through the broken gaps in canopy as the sun gave its last hour of illumination over the peaks. He fumbled in his pocket, searching for how many rounds he had left. Not enough to take down the shambling faux corpses with his rifle, the close range use was confusing with his scope settings. He couldn't move fast enough and he doubted he'd build enough distance between them to pick them off one by one.

 

Rook checked his handgun and found the same dilemma. He sighed, withdrawing the 1911 as he checked the clip. The distant barking of dogs closing in caught him off guard, burning at his nerves as the Angels were called back. The canines instead, were let loose upon the brush and bushes to seek him out. Rook took a deep breath as they closed in, taking the chance while he could to make a break for it. The dogs were already terrifyingly close behind as his boots stormed across the earth, pressing divots into the soil. Out of the shadows an arm lunged out and pulled Rook off kilter. The free hand slid up along his arm, strong familiar fingers prying the gun out of his grasp as the forearm slung across his chest, caging him in. Body pressed up close to a broad chest, rippling with muscle beneath sweat drenched fabric. The tackiness of the humidity leaving sticky swaths gluing their bare skin together wherever pressed.

 

A sharp whistle made Rook jolt, beard tickling at the crook of his neck, pressed unusually close. The offending canines came to heel before the pair, large brown eyes wide in recognition towards their true master. The angels scurried up behind the canines, coming to rest on unsteady feet as the gun was aimed their direction. The handful of cognizant faithful brought up the rear, gasping and panting in the heat, struggling to keep up. Their wild eyes and over grown bearded expression were conflicted. “Faith, be a good girl and call off your dogs.”

 

The voice was surprisingly cold and taunting, a sharp jab directed into the mic of Jacob’s radio. There was a wistful silence before Faith’s intolerable sing song tone responded. “ _He was mine first_.” There was an edge of warning, the soft bitter sweet scent of bliss started to mingle around them..

 

Jacob met it with a low growl. “Your dogs chased him into my territory. They're trespassing. Now either you call them off, or you'll have a few less angels under your wings.” It was a last warning, teeth bared like the Alpha wolf he was and Faith knew better. Her faithful were quick to scurry away, back to the Henbane for safety. The arm remained firm over Rook’s chest until the coast was clear, dropping down low as the gun was unloaded, clip ejected from it's chamber. Jacob inspected the pitiful few bullets, not nearly enough to fend against the horde of blissed out followers, but the scare tactic worked well enough. He returned the clip and placed the gun firmly back into Rook’s hand before turning to leave.

 

The deputy was dumbfounded, staring blankly after the eldest Seed, cheeks tinted a pink flush that was equal parts from the heat and rat race as well as due to the lingering sensation of strong arms wrapped around his body. The warm impression slowly chilling at his back as the open air licked at the damp cloth. He shivered, taking a step forward to reach out for the man. Gun forgotten in hand before he managed to get enough of his wits about him to buckle it back into the holster on his belt. “Wait., I uh..” Rook’s voice faded out when Jacob stopped in his tracks, boots planted firmly in the slight slope of the terrain, easily guiding his way through the dark and shadowy interior of the forest, not at all worried about the snags of roots or branches like Rook had been his first few weeks trying to traverse these paths in the dark.

 

Blue eyes turned on him, silencing any attempt at speaking, a hunger burning so fiercely in his gaze that Rook could almost feel the teeth at his throat. A wolf’s jaws closing around them as they teased the killing blow. He swallowed thickly, wetting his lips nervously. One hand rising up to the back of his neck as he rubbed the sun burnt skin, wincing at the tenderness of it. “What is it?” The growl sent shivers through the deputy, making his exhausted form even more weak kneed and in danger of buckling right then and there.

 

“You uh, saved me and I’d like to repay you, somehow.” He cleared his throat, hearing just how ridiculous he sounded. Like a school boy trying to nab a first date with a long time crush. He didn’t know what exactly he was proposing but he was giving it a hell of a try. He cursed himself, just glad Nick and Sharky weren’t here to witness his downfall. He’d be the talk of Fall’s End for sure and it wouldn’t be painting him in as much of a flattering light as all the other gossip that passes through The Spread Eagle.

 

His floundering attempt earned him a raised brow, curious and intrigued now. Jacob stepped closer, one firm boot after another, pressing softly into the moss bedded earth. Rook’s heart was hammering in his chest, palms slick from his nerves as he lightly curled his fingers into anxious fists. If this were the old days, before Eden’s Gate, he’d offer they go out for a beer, maybe even dinner. Something a lot less anxiety inducing then this. Those eyes made it hard for him to focus as the low rumble filtered through the quiet night air. “What are you getting at, deputy?” Jacob prodded, it was playful but wary. He recognized Rook as a commendable adversary, saw him almost as an equal. Not in the same light as Joseph or John, but he knew there was something about the man that was different from the others. Despite his disheveled appearance, the nervous ticks of a spooked deer in the presence of a hunter, he was keen and strong spirited. Always fighting back against their attempts, holding them all at arms length.

 

Rook fished for another pitiful attempt, hoping to find something that could work. The words that tumbled out weren’t what he expected but he was grasping at straws here. “Have a drink with me...sometime...please?” He scratched at the back of his neck, blunt nails scraping over the red skin, a small reprieve from the thundering of his heart and the suffocating heat that seemed to be growing worse despite the near imperceivable darkness. He could barely make out the lines of Jacob’s face, but those eyes sliced through the dark all their own, like an nocturnal animal. “To repay you for savin my skin back there.”

 

“A drink?” Jacob repeated, a satisfied glint hanging on the edges of his lips. Rook nearly swooned between the heat and the lilt of his voice that was too perfect and primal to ignore. He gave a grunt of affirmation, biting his bottom lip to reclaim some form of composure. “And where exactly would we have this drink?”

 

“My cabin.” He blurted far too quickly before slowly reeling himself back. “It’s not too far from here actually.” He explained. It was a small little single room place with a kitchen, a cot and working fridge. There was a generator in the back shed and a fireplace for burning wood. He spent his free time there when he needed some time alone to think, with only Peaches and Boomer as company. It was a nice break from time to time with a little side bonus of being within Jacob’s boundary lines. He had a fridge full of beer, compliments of Hurk after he helped get Hurk Senior’s truck back from the Peggies. Nobody else knew where it was as far as Rook was concerned and he liked it that way. It was better then asking Jacob to tail him back to Fall’s End for a round with the rest of the gang.

 

Jacob seemed to consider this, a low hum in contemplation before his radio cued up with an urgent message from one of the Peggies in the Whitetail Region. Apparently the militia were still giving Jacob more than enough grief, drawing a long groan from the man, one hand rising to rub at his face, weary in its actions. He sighed, directing orders across the comm that would hold his men until he got there. Rook’s hopes were rapidly plummeting as he watched the broad shoulders shift beneath the military fatigues, turning away to start the long trek back to the nearest road. He could only assume Jacob had driven to this area, making him wonder what exactly the soldier was doing out there in the middle of nowhere.

 

His own shoulders slumped, head tipped down as he adjusted the rifle strap on his shoulder. His head snapping up as the voice broke through the humid fog. “Hey deputy, I’ll have to take a rain check on that drink. If you’re free tomorrow night.” He left the offer hanging, a knowing tone dancing around the words as he disappeared through the brush. Rook would be brimming with unbridled excitement if it wasn’t for the fact it had all been run out of him by Faith’s minions. Still, it didn’t stop the smile from plastering itself across his face as he made his way through the woods, towards his hidden humble abode. Or at least, the direction he thought it was in.


End file.
